


The Sharpest Lives

by awesomecherry



Series: Awesomecherry's Awesome Stucky Pornathon [6]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Prostitution, minor Steve Rogers/Original Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4559157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awesomecherry/pseuds/awesomecherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve can't stand the way Bucky is working himself into an early grave trying to provide for them both. Steve will do whatever it takes to ease some of Bucky's burden. </p><p>Or: That time Steve became a prostitute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sharpest Lives

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【冬盾冬】最艰难的时刻](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4726106) by [lxzhii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lxzhii/pseuds/lxzhii)



> I didn't tag this with dubious consent, but I'm afraid it has a little bit of that type of feel, probably like most prostitution fics do. So if you're especially sensitive to that, you might want to look out for it.

It takes Steve a few weeks to realize there’s something wrong with Bucky. To be fair, Steve’s just getting over the flu brought on by the change from winter to spring, his lungs are still giving him trouble when he so much as climbs the stairs to the apartment he shares with Bucky, and he’s been sleeping more than usual trying to regain his strength. 

He notices the little things first. Bucky comes home with a strained smile and bags under his eyes. He starts telling Steve he’s not hungry, slides him the majority of his dinner the nights they eat together. His clothes hang looser on his frame, and he has to cut a new hole in his belt to keep his pants up. 

It’s been a rough few months for both of them, and Steve knows Bucky has been picking up extra shifts at the docks, and working whatever odd jobs he can get his hands on, but Steve didn’t realize just how ragged Bucky was working himself. Steve wants to bring it up to Bucky, wants desperately to tell him to cut back, but rent is due soon, and they’re almost out of food. Steve bites his tongue when Bucky comes home and flops on the couch, passed out within seconds, boots still on, grease smudged along his hair line. They just need to make it another week or two, and then Steve will sit Bucky down and tell him to cut back. 

A day before their rent is due, Bucky comes home with a black eye and a split lip. It takes Steve two hours to get Bucky to tell him what happened. 

“You tried to steal a wallet?” Steve asks Bucky, shocked and angry. “Why would you do something like that?” 

Bucky holds a wet washcloth to his eye, tries to stem the swelling. He can’t meet Steve’s eyes. “We could use the money.” 

Steve makes an inarticulate noise of rage. He’s not just mad at Bucky, though that is part of it, he’s mad at himself for having lost his job when he came down with the flu, for putting the responsibility of providing for both of them on Bucky’s shoulders. “You’ve been workin’ extra shifts, how could we possibly need it that badly?” 

Bucky meets Steve’s eyes for a split second, wrenches his gaze away before Steve can place the emotion in them. “I had to use some of the rent money to replace your inhaler.” 

“Bucky, I could have gone without my inhaler.” Steve tries to sound stern, but he thinks it comes out pleading. 

Bucky glares at Steve. “No you couldn’t have, Steve. You don’t hear how you sound at night, the wheezing you only get when you can’t get enough air. It’s that time of year where everything irritates your lungs, I wasn’t gonna risk you having an attack and no inhaler.” His eyes soften. “Look Stevie, it was stupid. It won’t happen again. We’ve got enough for the rent, if we can make our food last another week. Don’t worry about it.” 

Steve spends the night with his head pillowed on Bucky’s chest as Bucky sleeps on. He feels helpless, and infuriated. He can’t stop thinking about Bucky trying to rob some poor sap. Bucky was lucky the guy took pity and only knocked him around a little bit. He needs to figure something out so Bucky won’t ever try it again, because even though he said he wouldn’t, Steve knows he will if he thinks he needs to.

Steve doesn’t wake when Bucky gently shifts Steve off of him, to head to work before the sun has even started to rise. Bucky brushes the hair from Steve forehead, makes sure his breathing is still even, if not deep, and kisses Steve’s forehead, before getting dressed and heading out. 

He can’t open his blackened eye, and every time he moves his mouth the forming scab breaks open. He could kick himself for fumbling the lift. If he wasn’t so damned tired all the time, if his hands didn’t shake constantly, if he wasn’t moving so slow, it would have worked. He is thankful he managed to leave without having the cops called on him. What would Steve have done if Bucky was thrown in jail, unable to earn the money they desperately need? 

Thankfully, with the extra shifts he’s picked up, and agreeing to unload groceries for Mr. Mckinley down at the local grocer, they’ll have enough for rent, barely. Bucky is already eating as little as possible, giving what he can to Steve, and going without when he can, but he knows he’ll be looking forward to more days with less food, if he doesn’t come up with something. He can’t risk trying to steal again, not so soon on the heels of his failed attempt, and not with Steve looking at him with suspicion. 

He nods to the other guys slowly making their way to the work site, tries to push the issue to the back of his mind. He’ll come up with something, he always does. Steve’s counting on him, and he won’t let him down. 

∞

Steve’s got an idea hovering at the back of his mind when he wakes up around noon. It’s something he’s thought about briefly other times they’ve been strapped for catch, but Bucky had always come home with another shift, or money from an odd job, and Steve would be able to forget about it. Now that it’s bad enough for Bucky to be stealing, Steve thinks it might be their only valid option. He gets dressed in some of Bucky’s hand-me-downs, and makes his way to the opposite side of the docks from where Bucky is working. If he’s going to go through with his plan, he’s going to need some advice. 

He usually goes out of his way to avoid this part of town, Bucky’s lectures about safety ringing in his ears. From the few times he has been out there, he knows there’s a corner where guys hang out, “fairies”, he’s heard them called. Bucky had told him about some of the other guys he works with taking them into back alleys, getting their kicks fooling around with the boys. He’d warned Steve away from the area, told him, _“Ain’t the kind of place you want to be seen. Don’t want no one thinkin you’re one of them.”_

Steve finds the men relatively easily, though calling them men is a bit of stretch. Most of the guys are skinny and young, with fair features that Steve recognizes as similar to his own. One of the men, a taller brunette with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and black kohl around his eyes notices Steve first. 

“I think you’re in the wrong place, pal.” The man, he can’t be any older than Steve, raises an eyebrow. 

Steve flushes a little, maintaining eye contact. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m in the right place.” He straightens his shoulder when the men snicker. “I was hoping you could give me some advice.” 

“Advice ain’t exactly what we’re selling, baby.” The same man says. He rakes his eyes over Steve, before sighing. He flicks his cigarette away and takes a few steps toward Steve. “I hope you’re not here looking for work. Eyes that pretty, and a mouth like yours, all the boys will pick you up instead of me.” 

Steve’s throat goes tight under the men’s gazes. “Sort of.” 

“I’m Johnny.” He waves Steve over. “What kind of advice were you lookin for?” 

“Steve.” Steve offers, stepping into the alley with the other men. “How do I find someone to pay for it?” 

Johnny snorts. “Pay for what, baby? You selling that cute little mouth, or that cuter ass? You gotta be real specific on what you’re willing to do.” 

“Oh. Um.” Steve’s face goes bright red at the bluntness. “I was thinking, maybe just my mouth?” 

“That could work for you.” Johnny pulls out another cigarette, offers it Steve who declines, leans back against the wall. 

“Johnny, why you even bothering with this punk? He can’t even talk about doing it without going red, he ain’t gonna be able to actually do it!” 

Johnny glares at the man who spoke, a man a few inches taller than Steve with a nasty bruise on one cheek. “Ignore, Tommy over there. He’s just sore because he picked the wrong John yesterday.” 

Tommy scoffs and turns his back on them, getting into discussion with the other men, leaving Steve and Johnny in relative privacy. 

“John?” 

“S’what we call our,” Johnny scrunches up his nose as he thinks. “clients.” 

“He got hit?” Steve shuffles closer to Johnny, lowers his voice so Tommy won’t overhear. 

Johnny shrugs, nonchalant. “It happens. Some guys, they’re fine as long your mouth’s on their cock, but freak when it’s over. Afraid of people finding out their queer. At least the jerk paid Tommy first.” He grins at the look on Steve’s face. “That’s why you gotta be careful about who you pick. You were right to come ask for help. Only another pro can tell you what to look for.” 

Johnny kicks a crate next to him, jerks his head towards it. “Come sit, this is gonna take a while. You don’t got any plans, right?” 

Steve moves the crate across from Johnny, plops himself down on it. “No. I’m free.” 

Steve listens diligently as Johnny details the best places to pick a john up, _behind places serving alcohol, like dance halls_ , the warning signs, _twitchy fingers, beady eyes, overly sweaty_ , and where to steer clear of, _the east side of town, and the docks, too many cops, too many competing pros_. 

Right before Steve is about to leave, Johnny places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, stopping him. “You ever done what you’re thinking about doin? Not just with a stranger, but with anyone?” 

Steve wills himself not to blush, taking to heart Johnny’s advice on the subject. _It’ll turn some people on, the whole innocent thing, but it’d be hard to tell them from the guys who’ll want to ruin that innocence. I’d work on it, if I were you._ “Yeah.” 

Johnny gives him a considering look. “Alright.” He casts a glance over his shoulder, before looking Steve straight in the eyes. “I don’t know why you think this is your only option, but I gotta tell you, you really outta make sure this _is_ you’re only option. This ain’t a life to choose if you don’t hafta.” 

Steve nods, gives Johnny his best grin. “Thanks for everything.” He doesn’t tell Johnny the truth, it’s not the only option, but it’s the only one he knows will work in the short term. He waves to Johnny, and walks home.

The apartment is still empty when he gets home, a sign Bucky pulled a double, or even a triple. He thinks about settling in on their threadbare couch, sketching until Bucky gets home, and then fixing them some dinner. It would be too easy to just wait for Bucky to come home, wait for Bucky to come up with a solution. He checks their ice box, notes how empty it really is, and decides he doesn’t have the luxury of waiting. 

He grabs the towel he shares with Bucky, and heads to the shower at the end of the hall. The water never gets warm enough, so Steve makes it quick, washing himself down hurriedly. He puts his old clothes back on, because Johnny said the look works for him, and combs his hair into some semblance of style. He stares at himself in the mirror for a few minutes, thinking to himself, _am I really going to do this?_ He remembers Bucky’s black eye, and nods to himself. He’s realty going to do this. 

He leaves a note on the counter, just in case Bucky gets back first and wonders where he’s gone. He doesn’t bother to lock the door when he leaves, there’s nothing worth stealing. There’s only one place he can think of going that fits Johnny’s criteria. The dance hall Bucky likes to take him to on weekends when the beer is cheap, and the music is lively. On a week night, it’ll be slower, but still populated, and he won’t look out of place. 

He picks the alley next to the Dance Hall, half hidden by bad street lighting, to stand in front of. He shoves his hands into his pockets so no one will be able to see how much his hands are shaking, and leans back against building as the sun starts to go down. He tries to look inviting, but not too suspicious, watching the men who pass him with careful eyes. Johnny had warned him it might take a while, even days, before someone approaches him. 

Steve’s just thinking about finding somewhere to sit down for awhile to rest his legs, when he spots a man across the street, eyeing him up. He’s seen the man before, a few times in the dance hall itself, and once or twice on the street. Steve gives him a smile, lowers his lashes, the way Johnny instructed. 

The guy crosses the street, looking around before approaching Steve. He nods his head at the alley. “I think I’ve seen you around before.” 

Steve takes the hint and backs up into the alley, nervousness bubbling up inside him. “Yeah, once or twice maybe.” Steve gives the guy, the John, a once over, making sure to look for the warning signs, spotting none. “You lookin for something I can help you with?” 

The John’s eyes go heated. “I thought you might be one of those boys.” 

Steve tries not to flinch at the word boy. 

“You’re always with that other guy, the bigger one with the dark hair. I shouldda guessed you did this.” He crowds Steve backwards, pushing them further into the shadows. 

Steve struggles not to react, but it’s hard. He doesn’t want this guy talking about Bucky the way he is. 

“How much?” 

Steve thinks about what Johnny told him. “Three dollars.” 

The John frowns. “For a suck job? No way.” 

Steve licks his lips, watches the John watch his tongue. “2 dollars. It’ll be worth your while.” 

The John, pursues his lips, but nods, reaching down to unbutton his slacks. Steve puts up his hand to stop him. “Money first.” 

Steve waits for the guy to hand over the bills, folds them up and puts them in his pocket, before dropping to his knees. He takes over unbuttoning the guy’s pants, takes a deep breath. He wasn’t lying when he told Johnny he’s done this before, but it’s completely different to do this for Bucky, who he loves, than a complete stranger. 

When the guy’s pants are around his thighs, Steve leans forward and takes him in his mouth. He wants to pretend this is Bucky, but it seems unfair to be thinking of him with another guy’s dick in his mouth. 

The John gets impatient with Steve’s slow pace, and thrusts his hips, choking Steve. Steve pulls back, coughing, lungs protesting. He catches a glimpse of the John’s angry face, and hurries to take him back in, licking around the head the way he knows Bucky likes. 

Steve closes his eyes, tries to ignore the grunts the John occasionally lets out. He sucks as best he can, but his lungs are burning, and his knees ache from the hard ground. The john thrusts again, but Steve’s not prepared enough to keep from scrapping his teeth against the man’s length, gagging slightly. 

It spirals from there. The John jerks back in surprise and pain, and Steve can’t quite catch his breath. Steve reaches out and finishes the guy off with his hand, begging his lungs to cooperate, to open up, to let him _breathe_. The John practically runs away once Steve’s gotten him off, pants barely fastened before he’s gone. 

Steve stays on his knees, struggling to breathe, trying to press down the shame filling him. He’s not ashamed of what he’s done, but he is ashamed of being so bad at it, of his body not letting him do this one, stupid thing to help Bucky out. He gets to his feet gingerly. At least he got paid up front. 

It’s a long walk back to his apartment. Steve hopes Bucky is still out, so he can’t see how disheveled Steve knows he looks. No dice. Bucky throws open the door as soon as Steve finishes making it up the stairs. They stare at each other in the hallway for a minute, before Steve brushes past him, and goes to sit on the couch. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks, concerned when Steve hunches in on himself. “I didn’t expect you to be gone when I got home.” 

Steve shrugs. He’s still debating on whether to tell Bucky the truth or not. On one hand, he’s not sure how he would explain the sudden appearance of cash, but on the other, he doesn’t want to make Bucky mad, or upset. 

Bucky drops down in front of him, lifts Steve’s chin so he can look him in the eye. His eyebrows furrow when he sees Steve’s face. “What happened?” 

“I wanted to help.” Steve averts his eyes. “I did help.” 

“Help with what?” 

“We needed the money. That’s what you said.” Steve’s fists clench and unclench in his lap. “I got us some more money.” 

“What did you do?” Bucky breathes out roughly. “Steve, what did you do?” 

“What I had to.” Steve glares at Bucky, lips thin. 

Bucky rocks back on his heels, staring at Steve in disbelief. He takes in Steve’s swollen lips, the slight hitch in his breathing, the redness on his cheeks. “Steve, you didn’t.” 

“We needed the money!” Steve shouts, throwing his hands in the air. 

Bucky shakes his head, stands up to start pacing. “What were you thinking? You could have been arrested! You could have been killed! You know how people are.” 

Steve laughs without humor. “This coming from the jerk who tried to steal someone’s wallet!” 

“That’s different!” Bucky glares at Steve. 

“Yeah! I didn’t get caught!” Steve has to stop to take a few breaths, lungs constricting in his chest. 

Bucky lunges towards to the side table, grabs the inhaler on it, and hold it up to Steve’s mouth. “Breathe, Steve, just like me.” He holds the inhaler for Steve to use, until Steve’s hands have stopped shaking enough for him to take it. “You okay?” He asks quietly, when Steve has his breathing mostly under control. 

“Please don’t be mad, Buck. I did what I needed to. You’re gonna kill yourself working all these shifts. You think I don’t know how little sleep you’re gettin’, how much you’re not eatin’? I know I lost my job, and that put all the pressure on you. I had to do something.” Steve cracks his eyes open to give Bucky a pleading look. 

“I just don’t want anythin’ to happen to you.” Bucky drops to his knees, resting his head on Steve’s thigh. “Couldn’t bear to lose you, punk.” He relaxes into the hand Steve cards through his hair. “Just, don’t do it again, okay? I have enough for the rent, and I got a bonus today, so we’re gonna be fine for a while. We’ll figure something else out if we get short on cash again. I won’t steal, and you won’t,” He pauses, pained. “won’t do that.” 

“Okay.” Steve agrees, the same way Bucky had agreed to stop stealing. He hopes it won’t be necessary again, but he won’t hold his breath. 

Bucky sighs like he knows what Steve’s thinking. “Let’s go to bed, punk. It’s been a long day.” Bucky rises fluidly, hauls Steve to his feet by his hand, and leads him to their bed. 

They both strip efficiently, clothes discarded on their bedroom floor. Bucky looks over Steve’s slim frame as he crawls into bed, briefs the only clothing on his perfect body. Bucky waits until Steve settles on the bed before crawling on, settling himself between Steve’s legs. He runs his hands up Steve’s thigh, slow smirk spreading on his face. 

“Thought you were tired, Buck.” Steve’s breathing increases slightly when Bucky’s hands rest on the tops of his thighs, so close to his hardening cock. 

“M’never too tired for you, Stevie.” He hunches over to breathe out over Steve’s erection. “Wanna show you how much you mean to me. That okay with you, Stevie?” 

Steve nods jerkily, resting himself on his elbows so he can watch as Bucky mouths his cock through his briefs. 

Bucky looks up at him, winks, grabbing Steve’s briefs with his teeth and slowly, so slowly, pulling them down. Bucky abandons the briefs once they’re under Steve’s cock, licking a long stripe up the bottom of Steve’s dick. He reaches up with his left hand, placing it on Steve’s heaving chest, so he can monitor Steve’s breathing. 

Steve links his fingers with Bucky’s, dropping back on the bed when Bucky sucks on the head, tongue working at the bundle of nerves under the crown. He knows better than to try to say anything, just tries to breathe evenly. 

Bucky flicks his tongue against Steve’s slit, the taste of precome exploding on his taste buds. He pulls back to blow cold air on it, watches it twitch, before taking Steve as far back into his mouth as he can. Thankfully, Steve’s dick is proportionate to the rest of his body, and Bucky can fit most of him in his mouth with relative ease. He uses his free hand to roll Steve’s balls, occasionally sliding a finger back to rub against the sensitive skin just behind them. 

Steve grunts, the only sound he’s capable of making, in an effort to let Bucky know he’s close. Bucky takes the hint sucks harder, slipping his index finger in his mouth alongside Steve’s cock, and then pulling it out to rub against Steve’s hole. Steve pushes back on the finger, groans as it slips inside. 

Bucky pulls back so only the head is still inside his mouth, and dips the tip of his tongue into Steve’s slit, eliciting a hoarse cry. He hollows his cheeks, and moans, twisting his finger inside Steve. 

Steve’s back arches, joints cracking, as he comes. He tries to breathe through it, eyes shut tight as pleasure rushes through his body, almost painful in intensity. Bucky pulls away before he can become too sensitive, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Bucky kneels between Steve’s thighs, spitting on his hand, before wrapping it around his throbbing erection, and jerking himself hard and fast, wrist twisting at the top just the way he likes. He moans when Steve’s eyes flutter open, looking at him with pupils blown huge with lust. “Stevie.” 

Steve licks his lips, blinks at Buck nice and slow. “You gonna come on me, Buck?” 

Bucky groans, hips stuttering up into his hand. It feels like he’s been struck by lightning, his orgasm rushes through him so quickly, splattering Steve’s belly and hips with come. Bucky drops down over Steve, careful to keep his weight braced on his elbows, and not on Steve. He kisses Steve lightly, licking at his lips until Steve opens them. 

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s back, kisses back with passion. “Love you, Buck.” He says softly when Bucky pulls back. 

Bucky smiles. “You too, punk.” 

Bucky doesn’t try to steal again, and the next week Steve gets a job drawing comics for the newspaper.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr ](http://spookyscarycherry.tumblr.com/)


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